Conjure A Bouquet (And Never Let It Go)
by ficamaze
Summary: The second thought was simply how ridiculous this was. What was this insanity? Who coughs up freaking petals a few days after the Horsemen are finally complete again, after months of being an imbalanced trio? He was magic. Not this – this was just plain bat shit crazy.
1. Conjure A Bouquet

**CONJURE A BOUQUET (AND NEVER LET IT GO)**

 **Part 1**

"Do you believe in magic?" was a question that always set his teeth on edge.

To him, it was a question tantamount to "do you believe in yourself?", the answer to which was never simple. He often said that magic was altering people's perception: he was very good at it, in fact, so much so that he liked to think he _is_ magic.

So yeah, he believed in magic, insofar as he believed in his capabilities on better days and doubted himself to the core on the darker ones, which – surprisingly – had dwindled to far less in number these days. He suspected that it had much to do with the fact that they were finally a complete act again, even if he thought that Lula got into his nerves most of the time.

He would have thought that Henley's departure would have been something that he would have difficulty bearing, but that wasn't the case: to his surprise, he found that while Henley leaving had not been a part of the plan, it didn't cut him up as badly as it should have.

But now, as he doubled over and crashed to the floor, uncontrollably coughing out soft yellow rose petals, J. Daniel Atlas thought of two things. The first was a thought on whether he was just in denial – was this life's sick way of telling him that he might miss Henley more than he thought he did?

The second thought was simply how ridiculous this was. What was this insanity? Who coughs up freaking petals a few days after the Horsemen are finally complete again, after months of being an imbalanced trio?

 _He_ was magic. Not this – _this_ was just plain bat shit crazy.

Someone was gently tapping on Daniel's bedroom door. "Hey man, what's going on?" came the tentative voice of Jack Wilder, and Daniel smiled because he knew that Jack knew that he hated stupid questions like 'are you okay' when it was pretty obvious that he wasn't.

Violent coughing and retching ensued from the other side of the door, causing Jack to jump in alarm. The sleight shook his head. "You know what, I'm coming in. I hope you're decent, dude." Jack thought he heard the start of Daniel's protests, but it was immediately cut off by yet another round of coughing and retching, followed by the creak of the door swinging open.

The sleight stilled when he entered Daniel's room, which smelled strongly of a floral nursery drenched in blood, and as he looked around, it was indeed the case: bloodstained petals were everywhere. Dried yellow rose petals mixed with bright hyacinths on the floor, while on the bed, where Daniel was sprawled on, still violently heaving, were dead leaves and white gardenias.

The showman looked up at Jack with wide eyes, shaking his head. "Jack, no, I'm—"

Red carnations spilled out of his mouth, rendering him speechless and unable to continue.

Jack walked to their leader, sat on his bed, and gently rubbed his back as he heaved aching, dry breaths. He hummed lowly, as though comforting a child, and with his free hand, held on to Daniel's forearm. "You're okay," he said comfortingly.

Somehow, Daniel thought so, too.

As the days passed, Daniel began to think that maybe whatever-the-fuck was happening to him had little or nothing to do with Henley. He observed the patterns of the coughing fits: yellow roses and hyacinths would spew out whenever he was thinking of a time with the other three that was full of laughter; dead leaves and gardenia each time he would suddenly go into a melancholic mood; red carnations every time the others would come to him with concern in their eyes whenever he had these episodes.

On one such day, Jack had sent Lula and Merritt to get some takeaway for dinner and some fluids for Daniel, shaking his head as he continued to rub circles on Daniel's back. "You're really getting me worried, Atlas," he said gently. "Isn't there any way we can fix this?"

Daniel smiled weakly. "What exactly do you propose to tell the doctor?"

Jack shrugged. "I'm sure he'd understand that insane symptoms beget insane patients."

The showman quirked an eyebrow. "You have a problem with insane, Wilder?" he said in jest.

"Nope," the sleight countered immediately, his lips popping on the 'p'. Daniel wasn't sure if his judgment was affected by his fever, but he could swear that there was a perceptible softening in those dark brown eyes as he looked at Daniel. "Insane is absolutely perfect."

They stayed there for a split second before Jack's face broke into another grin. He stood up, ruffling Daniel's hair, saying, "You know what? I'm going to get some popcorn and maybe a decent movie."

"You aren't watching here?" Daniel said with wide eyes.

"Nope, not me," Jack said cheerfully. "We are! Be right back!"

When Jack had disappeared, Daniel gave a light cough, but surprisingly, it didn't hurt so much this time.

A beautiful chrysanthemum found its way into his hand, and he continued to gaze at it until the smell of popcorn wafted by the entrance of his room.

The attacks were never so bad, and for the next weeks, Daniel could almost live with whatever this weird disease was. Having the three around, Jack especially, made in reasonably tolerable.

But then Octa, Chase McKinney, and Walter Mabry happened.

He was on edge, confused, angry, and tired; waiting for a list of supplies in a dingy old magic shop in the middle of China. What was he even doing? He wasn't even sure would get them the results he needed at this point, but he had to try, at least for the rest of the team, at least for—

His chest area seemed to turn to lead as he spotted Jack and Lula huddled in the far corner of the shop. She was looking at him with a mischievous twinkle in her large blue eyes, holding up his wallet, little packets of sugar, his belt—

he cleared his throat, feeling a familiar itch coming up, but once he cleared his throat, he couldn't seem to stop what happened next.

The coughing was the most violent he's ever had, and Daniel felt involuntary tears streaming down his cheeks as he doubled over from the pain, a deluge of yellow rose petals, hyacinths, dead leaves, and fresh gardenia petals, all stained with his blood, making their way out of his body and onto the floor. He could hear Jack's voice particularly clearly as they ran to him.

As his strength failed him, as he started to feel his eyes closing, the last thing he saw was a perfect carnation, blood red in the middle of the bright sunshine and clouds, and the delicate chrysanthemum Daniel knew almost as well as himself, dying in the middle of the harsh light.

NOTES: I came across the Hanahaki Disease trope weeks ago, and found myself incredibly drawn to the idea of it. This is the first of two very short parts, just one I wanted to try my hand at, and I do hope you guys enjoyed this!

The usual disclaimers:

You know the drill – for feedback and brave volunteers for future beta purposes, leave a comment (or two or three) or email me directly at ficamaze .

This is primarily a Lover's Death story. I do not own anyone (i.e., characters, etc) or anything (i.e., lines, scenes, concepts, etc) from the Now You See Me series.

Absolutely no copyright infringement intended.

From .

Yellow roses: jealousy, loss of love

Yellow hyacinths: jealousy

Dead leaves: sadness

Gardenia: secret love

Red carnations: my heart aches for you

Chrysanthemums: cheerfulness, hope


	2. And Never Let It Go

**CONJURE A BOUQUET (AND NEVER LET IT GO)**

 **Part 2**

Jack was worried sick.

Danny's condition did not improve in the next days: in fact, it got progressively worse when he was around anyone else but Jack – or so everyone was saying.

If Jack were to be honest, some small sick part of him was glad that their leader only seemed to be better when he was around Jack, but a larger part of him felt terrified at the implications of their situation.

"You know, we've got to stop this, man. People will start talking," he said in jest.

Danny's face, already too thin and tired, broke into a smile. "I know," he said in a voice that was barely a whisper. He looked down at his forearm, which Jack carefully put a hand on. "I'm sorry."

"Danny, I was joking," Jack said softly, almost exasperatedly. "Will you lighten up, dude?"

The showman shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Damn straight it doesn't," the sleight said tightly. "All that matters to me is that you get better." Jack stood up, taking Danny's half-empty soup bowl in his hand. "I'll heat up your soup. I'll be back."

Something in Danny's chest tightened as he looked at Jack, the fear of understanding hitting him very suddenly. He always knew that it was never about Henley, it was never about missing her, or not fitting in with the other Horsemen, or being alone.

The nausea hit him, causing a fresh wave of petals to spew from his mouth, along with the angry tears that came with the violent color splashes of yellow, brown, white, and red.

Jack was in the kitchen, heating up Danny's soup and scrolling through his phone for anything that could explain what was going on with the showman. He had dropped everything ever since Danny collapsed out of nowhere in the magic shop, and he was determined to help their leader get better so they could get on with the show.

Jack tried to convince himself that it was the show that was the most important thing in the world to him now.

"Jack?"

The sleight turned with a half-smile. "Hey, Lula. Where have you been?"

For her part, the self-decapitator crossed the room in three strides and took a seat in front of Jack, her blue eyes somber and somewhat apologetic. She really was beautiful, Jack thought to himself, but somehow her blue eyes didn't quite catch him the way blue eyes usually did. He wondered why.

"We've been looking around, trying to figure out what's going on with Danny," she said carefully.

Jack perked up. "Yeah? Please tell me you found something."

Lula sighed, rubbing her face with the palm of her hands. "I'm not sure if I can explain this."

The sleight's eyes narrowed. "Lula, Danny's coughing up fits of freaking flowers. I'm not sure if anyone can explain what the hell is going on with him, but I think you have as good a chance as anyone."

She looked at him searchingly before pulling out a few sheets of paper, which Jack saw were printed from various websites with photos of different and alarmingly familiar flowers. "Merritt told me the fits started around the time that I joined up, right?" she said.

Jack rolled his eyes, a half-smile on his face. "You going to tell me you poisoned Danny with flower disease?"

Her eyes seemed to gaze at Jack pityingly. "Not exactly."

He frowned, for real this time. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't poison him, Jack." Lula started laying out the photos of the flowers, with highlighted words underneath each.

Yellow roses and hyacinths. _Jealousy, the loss of love._

Dead leaves. _Sadness._

"Lula…" Jack said warily, eyeing the photos before him.

Gardenia. _Secret love._

"You did, Jack," she said quietly as she put down the last piece of paper before him.

Red carnations. _My heart aches for you._

Danny thought how horrible it was to know what he did, and yet be completely in the dark as to what to do about it. His bleeding mouth twisted as he thought of his name: Atlas, and how completely apt his name was right now.

He was Atlas, the all-powerful god, alone and invincible.

Jack Wilder was the world, and his world had become Jack Wilder. He didn't know when, he didn't know why, but he now found himself with the burden of knowledge that he knew could only be true.

He was the mighty Atlas, and now, he could only put the sky on his shoulders so his beautiful world would not be crushed by its weight. But instead of his shoulders aching from the weight of his burden, here he was, coughing up red carnations, because his fucking-heart-was-aching-for-him.

The door opened again, though gentler than Danny supposed it should have been opened. He looked up curiously, and immediately, a jolt of excitement seized him as he took in the sight before him.

It was Jack Wilder, looking at him like he never did before (at least not for such a fixed and long period of seconds), holding two flowers in his hands as he took deliberate steps toward Danny.

Danny's heart was pounding as the sleight sat on the edge of the bed, placing the two flowers next to the showman. Gulping, he picked up the flowers with trembling hands: one was a beautiful hyacinth that matched the yellow ones he produced, but this time in a deep shade of purple; the other was a yellow-orange ambrosia, something so radiant and perfect that he could only stare at it.

"They're, um," Danny cleared his throat nervously. "They're very nice."

Jack's brown eyes gazed at him gently. "Are they?" he whispered.

Was it yet another one of his delusions, or was Jack's face nearing his? Danny found it hard to tell, and even harder to look and stay away. He nodded. "Yeah," he said softly.

The tips of their noses were practically touching now. "You should have said something to me," Jack said sadly.

Danny was pretty sure they weren't talking about the flowers anymore. He brushed the tips of his fingers against the cheek of the other man, feeling a jolt of electricity course through him. "It was too beautiful for me to say anything," he admitted, his senses on overdrive.

"Idiot," Jack snapped before covering Danny's lips with his own.

Five days later, the Horsemen were in the middle of the Thames on New Year's Eve, having pulled off their most successful heist yet, and the crowd was positively screaming in complete adoration of them.

"…Three! Two! One!"

Jack felt a strong hand pulling him, followed by the familiar warmth of lips on his. He smiled underneath Danny's searing kiss, oblivious to the crowd that had suddenly gone even wilder, or to the lights that threatened to blind him. The air smelled wonderful – fireworks, cheer, joy, and Danny.

He probably wouldn't mind if it would never smell like flowers again.

NOTES: Wrapping this up for you guys! Thanks for staying with it.

The usual disclaimers:

You know the drill – for feedback and brave volunteers for future beta purposes, leave a comment (or two or three) or email me directly at ficamaze .

This is primarily a Lover's Death story. I do not own anyone (i.e., characters, etc) or anything (i.e., lines, scenes, concepts, etc) from the Now You See Me series.

Absolutely no copyright infringement intended.

From .

Purple hyacinths: I'm sorry

Ambrosia: Reciprocal love


End file.
